Coming Home
by deanadamsgirl
Summary: A WHN for "The First Born."


Author's Note: I was cleaning off my hard drive and found this that I started writing a while ago. I fixed it up a bit and thought I would submit it now since I really do need more space. I have just too many pictures of Adam saved. :) Thank you. Enjoy.

It has been 15 years since I left the Ponderosa. Sitting in a jail cell in Texas I find myself thinking of my little brother, Joe. Joe Cartwright, really only a half-brother but the only person my bitter heart has ever allowed me to love. I would have liked to stay with the Cartwright's on the ranch but as I had explained to Joe 'Trouble follows me wherever I go.' And I had not wanted Joe involved. I missed Joe's smile, his laugh and his devotion. All alone since I left, I had found myself often thinking of my brother and the life that Joe led.

I stood up and looked out my cell window at the street. A cowboy was riding in front of the jail, so tall and so proud. I swallowed a lump in my throat. "If I get out of here alive," I thought, "I'm going back to Joe. I'm tired of this kind of life."

My hand clutched a locket that Joe had given me when I left Nevada. 'Bring it back someday.' Joe had told me. It was a picture of our mother, the mother that I had never known and Joe just barely. "I'd like to take it back to him." I thought. "I'd like to see Mr. Cartwright and Hoss and Adam." Adam...that was the only thing I ever envied Joe for. If only I had had a brother like Adam. Adam was a wonderful man a protective brother and I know we might have become close if Adam would let me.

The sheriff came towards my cell. "You all right?" he asked.

I turned and nodded.

"I'm going to let you out." The sheriff explained, unlocking the cell door. "But you listen to me. You ride long and far away from here. And don't come back, neither. Your type's ain't welcome around here."

I picked up my hat and walked toward the door. "Don't worry about me, Sheriff. I'm going home."

"Where is home?" The sheriff asked probably hoping it was Canada after the trouble that I had put him through the night before.

"Nevada." I answered. "Virginia City." And I was finally ready to go there.

I have not cheated at cards since the night in Virginia City. Somehow seeing my little brother beat up over my game was too much for even me to handle. When I left that night I had made a vow never to play wrong again. And I have not. I worked now for a living, and the Southern gentleman of 15 years ago has become a real ranch hand. My horse is taking the ride easy sensing his master lost in his dreams. Dreams! So many, so precious, so sad.

My last night at the Ponderosa when I had told Joe 'I don't need your family. I don't need you.' I realized how much I needed the Cartwrights when I was in Mexico not long after I had left. I was in a terrible fistfight and was left all alone in an alley. "To die." I remember. "They left me there to die.' Then I had thought of Little Joe and the stories I had told my brother about glorious Mexico. I wished Joe was there then to help me, to give me water to soothe my burning lips, to whisper words that comfort and mean so much to brothers.

My eyes fill with silent tears. I did not want trouble following me. I wanted to be happy with a family such as Joe had. "Why, oh why, did I ever leave?" I asked myself. Hunted by the Mexican government for my role in the revolution I had returned to American soil. I had thought about returning to the Ponderosa and even rode past it one day.

There was a party going on. Lights lit up the yard and singing filled the air. All alone I had watched them from my horse. They seemed so happy so gay. I spotted my brother almost immediately and whistled softly. Joe always was able to find the pretty ones. I wanted to join in the festivities, wanted to dance and sing with the best of them. But something held me back. Something I had said 'I don't need your family. I don't need you.' I had wiped my eyes against my sleeve and turning my horse I had left the ranch behind me.

I had tried mining in California. But trouble followed me there, too. This time it involved a beautiful girl the daughter of one of the miners. I was blamed for her death and was held in prison for a long time while they debated over her murder. I was innocent! Cheat at cards I did but murder never! They finally let me go, only because there was not enough evidence to hold me on. And I had returned to the Ponderosa.

They were breaking horses when I returned and sat the same place I had the night of the party. I always looked for Joe first. Joe was the spry one such a better horsebreaker than even Adam or Hoss. Adam was good, yes, I will admit that, but Joe was better. His light frame was more conducive to staying in the saddle for extended periods of time. I found himself laughing and clapping my hands as Joe stuck to the saddle of a bronco that had thrown Adam. I wanted to go down and help them break those horses. I wanted to sit on the fence with Adam and Hoss and applaud Joe on. But I did not. I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand and went away again.

I found a job in Carson City. It was a good job, working in a store. But I had a hard time keeping occupied. The Ponderosa was not far from Carson City and I would ride often and just look over the ranch, never coming near the house. It was in Carson City that I first wrote to Joe. But I never mailed the letters.

Unconsciously my hand touches the letters tied with a red ribbon and tucked in my bosom pocket. They all began the same "Dear Brother..." I drew them out and looked at them. I should have mailed them. I should have let Joe that I was still thinking about him. But something always stopped me. Every time I got ready to place it in the mailbox, my words rang through my head 'I don't need your family. I don't need you.' Foolish pride. Oh, if only I had mailed them when I intended to.

Well, the manger at the store in Carson City fired me. "You're never around when I need you." He had told me. So I set out again. Texas was a wonderful place for me. But trouble had followed me there too. I met a girl, a wonderful girl and I thought that maybe; just maybe she could help me forget about Joe. But she could not. She was the girl of one of the big ranch hands and when he had confronted me, with drawn gun, about playing with his girl, I had no choice. I had to kill him. It was a clear case of self-defense. They had nothing to hold me on.

Montana was a great new country and it drew me. I worked for awhile on one of the big ranches there but I grew tired. I wanted to go home. Still I kept working. I even made it to foreman on the ranch but then the owner died. I did everything I could to help his widow keep her ranch but without her level headed husband it was doomed to failure. And fail it did. Once again I was on my own.

I went back to New Orleans for a while. My hometown was no longer the same. Still trying to rebuild after the war it was a sorry sight for my eyes, which had been accustomed to the beautiful Southern mansions and lovely belles. I pitched in for awhile and helped rebuild. But I never really got used to Yankee soldiers everywhere. It just did not seem right. So before I got into real trouble I left again.

Texas would always be a sort of home to me. It was so big, so wide, and so open. And it called me again. So once again I went. One of the largest ranches needed some hands for the round up and I was hired on. Looking back on it now I probably should not have taken that job because that is where I got into trouble again. It started off as an innocent little argument. But by the time it was over a man had been killed and I was his killer. Oh, it was done in self-defense of course. The other men swore to that and so I stated a night in jail and moved on again.

I could not bring myself to return to the Ponderosa yet. But I would not leave Texas either. A new saloon was opening in the town that I picked for my next stop. They needed a gambler and I got the job. Oh, its a terrible thing watching these people lose their money, accusing me of cheating. Only I was not cheating. I was just better than they were. I liked my job there. Cards were something I knew. My grandfather loved playing cards and he taught me at an early age. For once in my life I was happy.

Then She entered my life and I thought my happiness would be complete. She reminded me so much of Little Joe, wild green eyes, unruly brown hair and a winning smile. And her name was Josephine. "But if you ever call me that." She warned. "I'll kill you. My name is Jo." I had laughed, then, this young kid whose parents had died during the war. But she was nice and I passed many wonderful hours in her company. She was 20 when we met, and loved Shakespeare and Dickens. I started reading the bard again for her and it was a happy day when I could recite a sonnet to her. She smiled and called he "A darling." And I was happy.

She asked me to give up gambling and take up honest work again. "I don't like gamblers." She told me. But that did not stop her from coming to the saloon every night to watch me play. "I just come to make sure those daughters of Jezebel don't lay a finger on you." She told me when I mentioned it to her.

Oh, yes, we were happy. I told her about Little Joe and the Cartwright's. "Why don't you go back to them, Clay?" she asked me. "If I had a family like that, even a distant family, I would live with them not here working in a saloon." I agreed with her and told her that maybe someday I would return but not yet. "I would like to meet your brother." She mused. "You say he is a lot like me?" I nodded. They were very similar. She smiled and I did, too.

We were going to be married. And I had a surprise for her. I was going to take her to the Ponderosa and introduce her to her namesake for our honeymoon. But the week before the wedding I was working in the saloon and she was watching as she always did. She had asked me to give up the gambling and I had promised her I would after we were married. She smiled and said, "Make sure that's a promise, Clay." I agreed and smiled. If I had known then that my world was about to come crashing down about my ears, I probably would have given up gambling then and there. But I did not know it and I worked my table that night.

He was a stranger in town but he had the look of a professional gunfighter. I was curious to see how well he could play cards. He was good, oh, I'll admit he was good. But I was better and that irritated him. He started to get angrier and angrier and finally he accused me of cheating him! Well, I got a little upset. I explained that I was not cheating, he was just having bad luck. He would not tolerate that and told me to reach for my gun. "Look, friend," I replied calmly. "I'm not interested in fighting. This is a fair game. Ask anyone."

The other people in the room nodded in agreement. "We might lose but we lose fairly." One came to my defense.

I turned back to the man. He was not satisfied. His gun was pointed directly at my chest. "I'll kill you." He warned.

"I wouldn't do that!" I advised him. "I don't have my gun out. It would be murder."

"I'm a wanted man." He replied. "One more or less won't hurt me any."

I watched him, then out of the corner of my eye I saw Jo. She came toward the man. "Put it down." She told him calmly. She was carrying the gun from the bar. "Get rid of it now."

He turned, saw her with the gun and fired blindly at her. I struck him on the back of the head and he fell. But then I saw her. His bullet had found its mark in her chest and she had fallen to the ground. I dashed over to her and picked her up, cradling her close. She looked up at me and smiled. "Remember your promise, Clay?" she whispered. I nodded tears in my eyes. "Keep it." She told me.

"I will, Jo. I promise I will."

She smiled. "I know you will, Clay." She shifted ever so lightly in my arms. Then she looked up at me. "Clay?" she whispered. "I love you."

"I love you, Jo." I answered. Her lovely green eyes smiled up at me for the last time and her eyes closed. Her body was still in my arms and I knew that she was dead.

Life had shattered for me. And then the sheriff arrested me "Just for the night." He told me. "To give you a chance to cool off." Then he let me go. Go, go home. Home to the Ponderosa. And now released from the jail, finally, I'm still thinking about Joe and the mighty Ponderosa. She will no longer smile at me. I will no longer see her lovely green eyes or her soft brown eyes. I am ready to go home to a life I wanted but could never reach.

He would be fifteen years older now. More mature, more wonderful. Perhaps he had found a woman to share his life. I envied him. Young and a fine man with a wonderful family and a bright future. Yes, one of the reasons I left was because of the treatment Joe received. Oh, the rest of the family treated me all right but I know that Adam did not trust me and even sent a wire to New Orleans to discover if I was really who I claimed to be. That hurt me deeply but I never let anyone know that I knew. I was ready to forgive him now. I was ready to go home.

I wonder if Joe ever thinks about me. Fifteen years is a long time for anyone. But I miss him still. It will take me only a little longer to reach the ranch. I'll arrive on my anniversary. I wonder if Joe remembers that I left fifteen years ago Tuesday?

"Do you know what tomorrow is?" I asked my father one Monday night.

Pa turned from his desk and looked at me. "What, son?"

"Clay left fifteen years ago tomorrow." I answered, walking toward the door and looking out.

I know that my older brother looked at Pa. He knew, even if Pa did not, what I had gone through after my brother left.

I had tried hard not to think about it these past years but now somehow I wanted to remember it. I wanted to think about it. It had been tough for me when Clay first left. My heart was ready to love and Clay had been there. Adam had been talking about leaving and traveling and I wanted another older brother to fill in for him when Adam left. Clay was my brother and my friend. I had stood next to him when there was almost a gunfight in the street. I had even taken a beating for him. And then he had left me.

I rode after him that night even though I was still sore from the beating the miners had given me. I arrived at his camp and asked him, nay, begged him to come back. His reply 'I don't need your family I don't need you' broke my heart. He might not have needed my family but I needed him.

I let him go, however. I did not want to stand in the way of my older brother, my mother's son. But I wanted him to remember us to remember Mama. So I gave him my locket with her picture in it. 'Bring it back someday'. I had told him. But that was 15 years ago and I have not seen him since. I kept hoping that maybe he'd send me a letter or something but he never did. I wrote to him once and started the letter "Dear Brother..." but I did not know where to send it, so I stashed it away in my room. I never tried to write again.

I found something else to drown my sorrows in, whiskey. I was never a hard drinker and I did not become one, then. All it took was a couple drinks and I'd be out. Adam and Hoss were wonderful brothers. They tried to help me; they stood behind me, comforting, advising, but most importantly keeping silent, especially around Pa.

I remember one night I took some of Pa's whiskey to my room. Pa was on business in Carson City and would not miss it when he returned. Hoss and Adam were asleep in their rooms; I could hear Hoss snoring even through the closed door. And Adam liked to leave his bedroom door open a crack, "to let the air circulate" he used to say. I sat in the chair next to my desk and drank the whiskey, even crying a little. I placed the bottle on the desk and drank from a cup. My head spun and my hands were shaking after two drinks but I reached for the bottle again. There were so many bottles I could not find the right one, and in my groping among the haze I knocked the real bottle to the floor. I bent to pick it up, before the precious liquid ruined my rug, but I lost my balance and tumbling from the chair I fell to the floor.

Adam had rushed into my bedroom. He had been asleep until my crash startled him awake. I remember seeing him standing in the doorway and his little gasp "Joe!" He had rushed to my side, picked me up, and held me steady, while he helped me onto my bed. "Look, Joe." He had said. "I know you're feeling a great hurt but this won't help or solve your problems. You've got to face it like a man. Put down the bottle and pick yourself up. You can do it, Joe. I know you can." He sounded so confident, so reassuring.

I still could not believe that I would ever get over the hurt. But Adam understood. His strong arm, suddenly so gentle, laid my head back against the pillow. I started drifting into a state of sleep. I saw Adam smile gently, then push my hair out of my eyes. The last thing I remember was Adam, pulling the blankets around me like he had when I was a little boy. I had not let him do that in a long time. But now somehow it felt good just to have him near me. I fell asleep thinking, "Maybe Adam is right." Maybe I needed to act more like a man and less like a helpless child.

I wonder what Clay has been doing all these years. I miss him still...I wonder if he has ever thought about returning. Now with my dear brother Hoss dead I kept hoping that maybe someday Clay would return and take my brother's place. Hoss would always be in our hearts, I know that, but Clay would fill a gap for me. A gap that even my wonderful brother Adam failed to fill when he returned after Hoss' untimely death.

I can see the Ponderosa up ahead. Somewhere inside past the rolling acres of land is a ranch house and inside that ranch house are the only friends I've ever had the only family I've ever had. I feel so strange riding toward the house, a visitor in a familiar land. How will they greet me? Hoss will of course say hello and smile at me, with his warm welcoming smile. Adam will be more reserved, more careful with his greeting; not as warm as Hoss, unwilling to show any emotion. As a matter of fact, the only time I saw Adam show any feeling was after the incident where Joe was beaten up. Then he showed real emotion and I realized that his little brother was a special part of his life, even if he would never admit it. So Adam would be reserved in his greeting. Ben Cartwright, my mother's husband, he might not welcome me as warmly as Hoss but he would not be cool like Adam, either. Joe, my brother, Joe. Well, I hope he welcomes me with open arms and his trademark smile.

I can see a horse approaching in the distance. There is something oddly familiar about its rider. Perhaps it is the way he rides his horse, or maybe it is the cut of his clothes. I still can not make out his face but I know I have seen him somewhere, sometime before. But where and when? Then the moon came out from behind a cloud and its beams fell directly on his face. Then I knew and I gasped. "Clay!" I cried. "Pa, its Clay!" And I dashed out of the house followed closely by my father and older brother.

I can see him now in the light of the porch. He has changed. He is taller than when I saw him last. His arms bulge with the fruits of hard labor. But his eyes appear softer; there is a certain light about them that was not there before. Somehow I knew that he too had lost someone he had loved. (Author's Note: Joe had first lost Hoss and then Alice before this scene.)

I dismounted in front of the house. Joe's face shone with a happy boyish look again but his eyes remained the same. He was just the way I imagined he would be. And Mr. Cartwright was the same, too. Perhaps not as warm as his son but still very kind as he said "I'm glad to see you again, Clay." Adam was, of course, reserved. But I had expected that. I wondered where Hoss was. I wanted to see his warm and welcoming smile. He was probably tending some sick animal, I concluded. He usually was.

We entered the house and I smiled looking around. The guns were in their rack, the settee in front of the fireplace, and Adam's books on the shelf behind Mr. Cartwright's desk. That, too, was in its spot with the map of the Ponderosa on the wall above it. Oh, yes, this was what home was.

Clay is home! He has changed since I saw him last. He has the look of a man who has seen the world and does not like what he has seen. His eyes are softer, his hair grayer. He has exchanged his New Orleans cut clothes for the cowboy type of a ranch hand. But he still wears it like a gentleman.

I wanted to talk to him. I wanted to find out where he had been and what had happened to him for the past 15 years. But he looked tired and I suggested that he get some sleep. "Your room is still unoccupied." Pa told him. He smiled at him.

"Thank you very much, Mr. Cartwright. I think I will use it." Then he smiled at me. "We will have to talk tomorrow, Joe."

I nodded and agreed. Yes, there would be time to talk tomorrow about the past. He could tell us about his adventures and we...we would have to tell him about Hoss. Poor gentle, sweet, Hoss. And I might tell him about Alice. Maybe. The memory still hurt. But for now, my brother was home and he was heading toward his bedroom. Then he stopped and turned.

I walked toward Joe. I had something for him. Something that I had traveled many miles to give him. I reached into my pocket and took it out. It still hung from the same chain he had given me. It had been to Montana, Texas, California, Mexico, and New Orleans. I smiled. It was ready to return to its rightful owner. I took Joe's hand in mine and placed it in the palm of his hand. Then I closed his fingers over it as he had done for me that night 15 years ago. "I brought it back, Joe." I smiled. "I brought it back."

THE END


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